


I Watched It Begin Again

by jacksbits (fragilehuge)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Texting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Pining, Sexting, Texting, jack's overdose is discussed/mentioned but not very explicitly, kent drinks pretty heavily but he does so responsibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7382965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilehuge/pseuds/jacksbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent hits on a stranger at a party. Except the party is at Jack’s house and the stranger is Bitty. It’s not Kent’s smoothest move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Watched It Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noplacespecial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noplacespecial/gifts).



> Noplacespecial! Your prompt was amazing! And also... so perfect for me that I got a little carried away? To the tune of 20,000 words??? EEP. Hope you like it! (Also I PROMISE THEY DO EVENTUALLY START SEXTING. It just takes a while to get there!)
> 
> Also, OH MY GOODNESS THIS FIC KILLED ME. I required SO MUCH MORE hand-holding than I normally need, and honestly this story would not exist without my very good friend Cocotte, who read bits and pieces of this through the whole process, and whose enthusiasm fed mine when my own was waning. Seriously, dude. You're the best.
> 
> Thanks to [rhysiana](http://rhysiana.tumblr.com/) and [selfsong](http://selfsong.tumblr.com/) for the awesome, quick, and thoughtful beta reads. Your notes really made this thing better, and the fact that you worked around my HORRIBLE LATENESS was deeply appreciated.
> 
> Thanks to the mods for your incredible patience. Seriously. /o\
> 
> Title from "Begin Again" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> eta 07/28/16: I know slightly more about hockey now and there's some inconsistencies in that regard in this fic but shhhhhhh just roll with it.

It takes five years for the Aces and the Falcs to get to the playoffs at the same time.

Obviously, it’s not a sure thing that they’ll actually get to play against each other. The Aces would have to win the Western conference finals, and the Falcs would have to win the Eastern one.

But Kent knows they’re both going to move on. The Aces didn’t make the playoffs at all the year before—a combination of a few bad injuries and crappy luck—but this year they’re ready. They’re gonna go all the way. He can feel it.

Except. Well. Kent knows he’s lying to himself if he says he isn’t worried about it. And he’s getting better about not lying to himself.

It’s just that he doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he and Jack end up fighting for the Cup.

The worst part is that he and Jack aren’t even in a bad place, anymore. They’re both almost 30: they’ve been able to act like fucking adults about everything that happened when they were kids for a couple of years now.

Honestly, they’re actually in a weirdly good place. A better place than Kent ever really expected them to be in. They text each other occasionally. Sometimes Jack sends him pictures of things his boyfriend cooks, desserts and shit like that. Apparently the guy bakes. Kent just responds with pictures of Kit.

Most mornings when he runs, he’s trying to beat Jack’s pace from the day before. Kent is a faster sprinter, but Jack has more endurance, a stronger will. It keeps things interesting. Even from three thousand miles away, they’re still pushing each other to be better.

Well, that’s how it feels for Kent. Maybe Jack just likes running.

The point is, what they have now is nice. Maybe it’s a little banal, but Kent doesn’t really care. It’s still more friendly interaction than he ever expected to have with Jack on a regular basis. The prospect of seeing him in person, of _playing with him again_ , now that they’re on good terms, is… amazing.

It’s also terrifying. Kent has been watching Jack play professionally for five years—he’s incredible. What Kent wants is to play great hockey, and he’ll get it playing against Jack. The thought of it is enough to send a thrill right through him.

But winning is in Kent’s blood and he would never throw a game, not for anything. Not even for Jack. Kent can’t help but wonder if everything is going to get fucked up all over again. What if the Aces win and Jack decides he has to cut Kent out in order to deal with it?

Kent doesn’t want that. He’s never wanted anything less. But he can’t quite bring himself to hope they won’t both make it to the finals, either.

-

Kent hasn’t actually seen Jack in person since that stupid party however many years ago. Epic Kegger or whatever. Which was obviously a fucking nightmare.

When Kent left Samwell that night, he was aware that he was burning a bridge. It just seemed like the only thing he could possibly do: he’d opened himself up and all Jack could say was, “You always say that,” like it didn’t matter at all, like it didn’t mean anything that Kent still loved him.

It was suddenly so clear. Jack was never going to let him back in. The realization was like a bucket of cold water over his head. Kent could try and try and try, but in the end, Jack just didn’t give a shit.

Kent said, “Huh. Well, shit. Okay.”

He thought, _I have to stop trying and never try again._

He didn’t know how else to make sure he’d do that except by making Jack hate him. If Jack hated him, if Jack _really_ hated him, then maybe Kent could finally give up.

So he said the absolute worst shit he could think of, things that would hurt Jack just as badly as Jack had hurt him without even trying, and then Kent fled. He set that bridge on fire and turned around and fucking left.

He regretted everything exactly fourteen seconds later, ended up sobbing in the driver’s seat of his stupid ostentatious rental car, pulled over on the side of the road five minutes from Jack’s place. It took him forty minutes to pull himself together enough to make the six-hour drive back to his mom’s house in Rochester. Kent had somehow expected that he'd be able to drive back in the morning. How fucking stupid, to assume things would work out with Jack.

Instead he’d gone and ruined the oldest and most important relationship he’d ever had in his life, and for what? Because Jack hurt his feelings? Because he lost his fucking temper? Maybe he should have just done whatever it was Jack wanted him to do without saying a goddamn thing about it, no matter how obvious it was that Jack was making a mistake.

But he’d tried that at eighteen, hadn’t he, and look what fucking happened. It wasn’t like Kent was particularly perceptive as a teenager, but even he’d been able to tell Jack needed help. Kent bit his tongue because Jack asked him to, and in the end, Jack nearly  _died_ , so maybe it didn’t seem like the best idea anymore to just capitulate to whatever Jack said without question.

He didn’t understand how Jack could have cut him out after the draft without even explaining why. He couldn’t think of one fucking thing he did that was so wrong that he deserved that.

After that party, though, Kent knew he deserved it. Saying those things to Jack was the worst thing he’d ever done. Kent never expected to be forgiven for it. He absolutely didn’t deserve it.

A year later, Jack called him.

The fact of the call itself had been a shock, and then when Kent answered, Jack said something about wanting to apologize.

It seemed so incomprehensible that Kent only managed to say, “ _What?_ ”

Jack said, “It was unfair to you, what I did after the draft.” It sounded like he was reading from a piece of paper. “You had the life I thought I was supposed to have, and being around you made me feel like a failure. That wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I took it out on you. The things you said the last time I saw you weren’t okay, but what I did, what I’d been doing to you for years, that wasn’t okay, either. I’m sorry.”

Kent was so stunned that he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Finally, Jack mumbled, “Sorry, I knew this was gonna be weird. Bitty just thought it’d give me closure, but I’ll just, I guess I just wanted to say it. You don’t have to say any—”

Kent interrupted him with, “No, what, _I’m_ sorry— _Jack_ —” before Jack could try to do something awful like hang up the phone. The conversation that followed was awkward and embarrassing, too many confessions and apologies and feelings, but it was good, too.

When Kent hung up the phone, he thought, for the first time in years, that maybe he and Jack could still be friends.

-

There’s something else that Kent remembers from that conversation, something that Jack said, that still feels it’s been burned into his brain, even all these years later: “It wasn't healthy, what I did. For either of us. I can't just ignore everything the reminds me of my past. That's not dealing, that's just avoidance.”

It was something he repeated to Carla, when he finally started going to see her.

“I don’t know why I remember that,” Kent said. “It just stuck with me.”

Carla tilted her head. “Do you think you avoid things without dealing with them, too, like Jack did?”

“Fuck,” Kent said. Carla just smiled.

It might have been the first time Kent experienced the spooky magic of counselors somehow knowing _everything_ , but it wasn’t the last.

-

A few weeks into their tenuous friendship, Jack ended up telling Kent about the guy he was dating—Bitty, whatever kind of name that was. He explained that Bitty was the one who had convinced Jack to reach out in the first place, which put Kent in the irritating position of being unable to hate someone he really wanted to hate.

Kent has never been quite bitter enough to _actively_ hope that Bitty and Jack will break up, but he’s not in any hurry to meet the guy, either.

To make himself feel a little better, Kent likes to pretend that Bitty is really ugly. He’s purposefully never let himself look Bitty up on Facebook, to protect his mental image of the guy. Every time Jack mentions him, Kent pictures stringy dishwater brown hair, small eyes, and an annoying voice.

Whenever Jack gushes about how he loves playing with the Falcs, but nothing’s like playing with Bitty, Kent holds his breath and thinks about how Bitty probably also has very bad teeth. It helps, a little.

It isn’t like Kent’s not happy for Jack, but he also wants to know as little as possible about someone Jack is obviously so in love with. Bitty is clearly awesome, more awesome than Kent could ever hope to be, and he sounds perfect for Jack. That’s great. Kent just doesn’t want to know anything about it.

It’s not like Kent thinks there’s a chance for something to happen again with Jack. He knows they aren’t going to get back together. They aren’t going to date, they aren’t going to hook up in some nebulous future, they aren’t going to be anything other than friends ever again. Kent knows all of that.

He knows it’s over—really over—between them. He does. But that doesn’t make him over it.

-

The Aces get knocked out of the playoffs after their fifth game. They don’t even make it to the second round.

Kent is crushed. He doesn’t think it’s entirely because they’re not going to win the Cup this year.

The guys go out to a bar after the game to get thoroughly hammered, but all Kent can think about is the fact that he’s not going to get to play with Jack. He’s not going to see Jack. He was so focused on the fact that it might finally happen again that somehow he didn’t actually prepare himself for the possibility that it wouldn’t. Kent was just so sure they were both going to make it.

He texts Jack, _It’s all u now._

A minute later, Jack responds, _It’s too bad. I was really looking forward to beating you._

Kent smiles down at his phone. He appreciates that Jack still knows what to say to make him feel better. He sends, _K_ _eep telling yourself that_ and lets his teammates buy him several rounds of misery shots.

It could be worse. At least now Kent can watch Jack win the Cup and be purely and completely happy for him. That’s good. That’s something, at least.

-

Two weeks later, the Falcs get knocked out at the end of the second round.

Kent is watching the game with some guys from the team at his place, Swoops and Kourgie and Gordo, and they’re all yelling at the TV through the entirely of the second and third periods. The Falcs were only down one point, and Jack kept getting _so close_ , but then suddenly the period was over and it didn’t matter anymore.

Kourgie groans in frustration when the end-of-period horn blares, spilling his beer when he gestures an angry hand at the TV.

Kent’s chest hurts. He texts Jack, _F_ _uck._

He doesn’t expect an answer from Jack for a while—he’s out on the ice, Kent can actually still see him on the screen—so he spends the next half hour commiserating with the guys.

“What a game, though,” Gordo says, a little later. He’s got one arm slung over the back of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. “Wish we had Zimmermann on our team. Imagine, huh?”

Kent presses his lips together. Swoops slants a glance over, clearly noticing, but all he says is, “We don’t have the fuckin’ cap space, man, unless you wanna get your ass traded.”

Kourgie barks out a laugh. “Yes, trade Gordy, absolutely. Useless teammate, much better to trade.”

“Aw, fuck off,” Gordo says, apparently suitably distracted from talking more about Jack.

Kent lets himself relax a little. Swoops is the only one of the guys who knows anything about what actually happened, and this is exactly why. He’s one of the most discreet people Kent’s ever met.

Kent still doesn’t quite know what to say. These guys are easily his best friends on the team, but sometimes he realizes there’s so much about him that none of them know. Not even Swoops knows the whole story—just pieces of it, things he figured out on his own and things Kent implied.

For instance, Kent is pretty sure Swoops thinks his thing with Jack was always one-sided, and Kent’s never bothered to correct the assumption. It isn’t an inaccurate take on the current situation, at least, and it’s not really Kent’s place to out Jack to someone, even if Kent knows Swoops is trustworthy.

Gordo and Kourgie are still bickering when Swoops drops a hand onto Kent’s shoulder.

“Okay, man,” he says. “Sarah wants to watch Game of Thrones together tonight, so I gotta head home.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Kent says. “Thanks for coming over.”

Kourgie stands, too. “I must head home also, Cap. Is getting late for old guy like me.”

“You’re a year younger than me,” complains Gordo. “Are you saying I’m old?”

Kourgie just grins. “You said, not me.”

Kent rolls his eyes at them.

It’s a couple minutes later, once the three of them have left and Kent is tidying up the living room, that his phone buzzes in his pocket. Jack just texted back, _Yeah_.

Kent thinks that’s going to be the end of the conversation, but then his phone buzzes again in his hand.

 **Zimms**  
(7:02 PM): Bitty convinced me to let him throw the team a “Pity Party” Friday night.  
(7:02 PM): Apparently it’s my duty as captain.  
(7:03 PM): Do you want to come?

Kent stares at the screen: it’s the last thing he expected, but he not complaining.

He replies, _Hell yeah_ and turns on his laptop to book a flight to Boston.

-

Kent rents a car at the airport, drives the hour to Providence, and checks into his hotel about 4 p.m. the next day.

He’s booked his return flight for 12:30 on Saturday, since it seemed a little presumptuous to book a flight for that evening. He’s already fucked himself over by being too presumptuous before, he isn’t about to do it again. Kent was also afraid Jack might offer to show him around Providence out of obligation. This way there won’t be time for it, so Jack won't have to.

Kent has been texting him on and off all day, just to get the details about the party and to see if he's supposed to bring anything. Apparently, it’s going to be all of the Falcs and some of Jack’s old friends from Samwell there.

And Bitty. Of course. The boyfriend. Jack says he can’t wait to finally introduce them to each other. Kent feels vaguely sick about the prospect.

But it’ll probably be fine. Especially because Kent plans to show up at the party pretty late. It’s not like he has anything better to do beforehand—he’s just too nervous to show up when everyone will still be sober. Kent isn’t particularly close to anyone on the Falcs. At best, Kent is sort of friends with Alexei Mashkov, though by “sort of friends” he just means that Mashkov likes a lot of his pictures of Kit on Instagram.

Kent feels like he’ll be able to talk to the Samwell people pretty easily, at least. It’s just a little easier when people are starstruck by him. Then he can just smile and chat and if he acts weird it still comes off as charming. Kent always feels better when he’s around people who are already predisposed to like him.

Plus, Kent figures if he shows up around 10, most people will be drunk and already having a good time, so they’ll be predisposed to like _anyone._

And he can drink a couple of shots from the minibar before he calls an Uber. That’ll probably help, too.

-

Jack’s place is in a quiet, fancy kind of neighborhood about fifteen minutes from downtown Providence. Jack said earlier that it’s where a lot of his other teammates live, too. The area kind of reminds Kent of the neighborhood where all of his teammates with families live. Kent wonders if that’s gonna be Jack in a couple of years.

Better not to think about all that.

A minute later, the Uber driver is pulling up in front Jack’s house. It’s just after ten. Jack’s place is a nice, largish, tranquil-looking house, with a big yard with a tree out front.

Kent walks up the pathway toward the door. The tequila shots he drank earlier buzz beneath his skin, just enough for him to feel it.

The moment he walks in, about six people throw their hands in the air and yell, “Kent Parson!”

Kent realizes he might have slightly misjudged how heavily people would be drinking after missing a shot at the Cup. It’s not a bad thing, though. Drunk people are easy to please. Kent lets himself smile wide, wide, wide.

It’s going to be a good night. He’s not going to let it be a bad night.

-

Jack is wasted when Kent finds him a couple of minutes later.

“Kenny!” he says, too loud. Kent winces. “You’re here!”

Jack pats him on the shoulder and Kent thinks about the last time he saw Jack wasted. They were eighteen. It was a couple of days before Jack nearly overdosed.

Kent forces out a reasonably casual, “Hey, Zimms.”

He wants to think it’s probably a good sign, that Jack feels comfortable getting drunk here. It’s his house, he’s among his friends, he seems happy, and he’s apparently met his soulmate and everything like that. It’s probably fine. It’s been twelve years since the draft. It’s obviously been a long time since Jack was the kid that Kent knew, and Kent is a different man, too.

“I’m really glad you could make it,” Jack says. “I didn’t know if you’d be able to.” He seems genuinely happy—he seems _fine—_ but Kent still feels off-kilter. He thinks he needs to be wasted, too, in order to talk to Jack when he’s this drunk without something going tight in his chest.

“Yeah, man, wouldn’t miss it,” Kent says. He’d picked up a beer from the kitchen before he went searching for Jack. He takes a sip, adds, “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“Drowning my sorrows,” Jack says cheerfully. He raises his Solo cup. Kent taps the neck of his bottle against the plastic with a little click.

“I can drink to that,” Kent says.

Jack smiles at him benignly and then says, “Oh, you have to meet Bitty!”

Kent tries his best to look neutral. “The infamous boyfriend?” He knows damn well who Bitty is, but it seems like the thing to say.

“I lost him,” Jack says. “I’ll go find him, and then I’ll bring him to you.”

“Yeah,” Kent says. “Sounds good.”

Jack claps him on the shoulder again as he walks by.

“It’s really good to see you,” Jack says, lingering a second. “I hope you have a good time tonight.”

“Yeah,” Kent says, and then Jack’s gone.

Kent can’t bring himself to stand there, waiting for Jack to come back with his apparent soulmate, some guy who’s perfect in a hundred different ways that all boil down to _not Kent_ , so he slips through the house, out the back door. He can meet Bitty later. Just... not now. A little later, maybe.

There’s no one out on the deck. Kent slumps into one of the chairs. He almost wishes he smoked, just so he’d have something to do. He figures he can finish his beer out here, at least, maybe go inside afterward and try to join a drinking game. He saw some people playing beer pong in one of the other rooms when he was looking for Jack. He can probably get them to change to flip cup with a little coaxing, which is the game he really prefers. It’s not that Kent doesn’t like beer pong, but it feels more natural to be a part of a bigger team. He doesn’t feel like he always knows what to do with just a partner. It’s like it’s too much pressure, or maybe not enough.

Kent takes a long pull from his beer. At some point, Jack will find him and introduce him to the boyfriend, but maybe by then he’ll be drunk enough that it’ll feel okay. It’s worth a shot, at least.

There’s a noise suddenly—the sliding door opening—and Kent startles, a little guilty. He’s half expecting it to be Jack standing there, demanding an explanation for his disappearance, but it’s just some guy he’s never met before. A little blonde, cute, not really Kent’s type.

“Well, hello there,” the guy drawls, raising his eyebrows. “I was kind of expecting to be alone out here.”

“Sorry,” Kent says. “I can go in.” He starts to stand, but the guy takes a couple of steps forward.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” He pulls a chair out and plops down next to Kent, then tosses his phone down onto the glass table. He doesn’t have a drink with him. “You’re good. I was just trying to get away a little.”

“It’s kind of rowdy in there,” Kent says.

“Yeah, and I’m the designated sober person.” The guy doesn’t sound upset about it, just resigned. He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out toward Kent’s chair. His shorts are cut high, so his legs look like they go on forever, laid out long and toned and golden in front of him. Kent is sort of beginning to reconsider the “not my type” angle.

“Ah,” Kent says. He puts his hand out to shake. “I’m Kent.”

The guy gives him a kind of weird look, not really _I already know who you are, you’re famous_ but _well,_ _that’s awkward._

The guy takes Kent’s hand, though. “Eric.”

When Eric drops his hand, Kent picks up his beer and takes a long drink. He wonders if Eric is some Samwell guy that Kent’s already met before. Normally he's pretty good at remembering names, but it’s entirely possible Kent has just made himself look like an asshole by introducing himself to someone he’s already met.

He tries to place the guy, thinking the name over, but he doesn’t really get anywhere. Ransom and Holster were a part of Kent’s greeting party, and he thinks he saw Lardo inside, too. (He actually only saw a short girl from behind, and he’s going purely by height in assuming it was her.)

This guy, though—Eric—Kent doesn’t remember. Maybe his face is a little familiar, but the name doesn’t ring any bells.

“You go Samwell?” Kent asks. “What’d you study?”

“Graduated a couple years ago, yeah,” Eric says. “American Culture, emphasis in food studies.”

Kent laughs without meaning to. “That’s a major?”

Eric raises one perfect blonde eyebrow. “You think I’d lie about it?”

Kent shrugs. “Just doesn’t sound real. It sounds way too interesting. School is supposed to be boring.”

That makes Eric laugh so hard that Kent gets a little embarrassed. He picks at the label on his beer. He wasn’t really trying to be funny, but he finds himself hoping he can figure out a way to make Eric laugh like that again. His laugh is nice—rich and low. It matches his accent.

When Eric calms down, he says, “That’s what I thought, too, honestly. It did seem too fun to be real.”

Kent takes a sip of his beer. “Tell me about it?” He stares out into the darkness behind Eric’s head. “I never got a chance to go to college. I always kind of wondered what it’d be like.”

Eric smiles at him. “It was amazing,” he says. “You meet a lot of people, do a lot of stupid stuff. The classes are the worst part, honestly, but some of them are still okay.”

Kent listens as Eric tells him about it—his favorite classes, the thesis he ended up writing, how beautiful the frozen-over campus looked to a Southern boy like him. He’s a great storyteller, animated and easy to listen to. By the time Kent finishes his beer, he’s pretty tipsy and completely fucking enamored. Eric is telling a story about the time he bribed his way into a senior history seminar with a _pie_ , of all things.

Kent has an elbow on the table, chin resting on the palm of one hand as he listens to Eric talk. He could probably listen to him all night.

“Can you believe it?” Eric says. “I mean, I thought it might work, but I was amazed by how quickly she got back to me.”

“I can believe it,” Kent says. “You’re very cute. I’m sure she was charmed.”

Eric turns instantly pink. “Ah, oh, well—thank you,” he stammers.

Kent maybe shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t mean to make Eric uncomfortable or put him on the spot or anything. It just sort of slipped out.

“What do you do, then?” he asks, to give Eric an out. “Since you graduated a couple years ago?”

Eric honestly seems a little thrown by the change of subject. “I, um—I’ve worked at a bakery for a while now. I’m the head baker on the weekends.”

“So the pie thing wasn’t a one-off?” Kent grins at him. “You must be really good, huh?”

Eric rubs the back of his neck, but he looks pleased. “I do alright,” he says. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I’m a pretty bad baker,” Kent admits. “I tried to make some cookies a couple weeks ago and they just… didn’t work. They all spread out too much when I put them in the oven? Like, they melted together?”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Eric coos, touching a hand to his chest. “I have some recipes I could send you. Very easy, picked out specifically for hopeless hockey boys.”

Kent smiles at him. “You calling me hopeless?”

Eric looks distraught. “Oh, no, I wasn’t saying _you_ were—” but he trails off when Kent snorts with laughter. Eric frowns. “Don’t you laugh at me, Parson.”

“Aw, don’t be mad,” Kent says. He sits back in his chair and slides his phone out of his pocket, looks up at Eric from beneath his lashes. “Come on, what’s your number? So you can send me the recipes?”

Eric kind of jerks and bites his lip, clearly hesitating. Kent’s about to assure him he doesn’t mean anything by it—even though he kind of did—but then Eric says, “Okay,” and tells Kent his number.

Kent sends him a text right away ( _hi there_ ) and Eric’s phone buzzes on the table. He rolls his eyes as he reads the text on the screen.

“Hello yourself,” Eric says.

Kent leans forward, his ribs pressed against the edge of the table. They’re not that far apart; if Eric sat up a little more too…

There’s another loud buzz on the glass. Eric jerks backward, looking down at his phone.

“Oh,” he says, staring at the screen. “I’m needed inside, apparently.”

Kent blinks. “You gotta go?”

Eric looks up at him, sort of deer-in-headlights. He picks up his phone but doesn’t otherwise move. “I should.”

“Alright,” Kent says. “I wanna get another beer, anyway.”

Eric stands up and Kent follows him inside, but when they’re just inside the door, Eric pauses and looks back over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

Kent smiles down at him. He’s taller than Eric by a couple of inches, which is unexpectedly nice. He’s usually the short one in these kinds of situations.

“Yeah,” Kent says. “Definitely.”

Eric disappears down the hallway, and Kent grabs another beer and goes to investigate the drinking games. It’s not as appealing of a plan as talking to Eric was, but it’s not bad either.

It does end up being Lardo that Kent saw earlier, after all. She joins Kent in campaigning for flip cup, and they end up getting together a five-on-five game. She makes sure Kent is on her team, because he’s clearly awesome at flip cup. (Her actual words are, “You’re actually not terrible, Parson. You’re mine.”)

The rest of both teams are made of assorted Falcs guys that Kent has mostly never talked to, but Tater ends up on the opposite team, which is nice. At least Kent kind of knows him.

“You’re toast, Tater,” Kent says. Maybe they can get some friendly shittalking going.

Tater gives Kent a look that is actually pretty much terrifying, but the effect is kind of ruined when he adds, “You are the toast.”

They end up deciding to play elimination flip cup. Kent’s never played that version before, but Lardo assures him it’s awesome: after each round, the losing side loses a player but not a cup, and the game continues until one team has no players left. It seems like a great way to get drunk, at the very least.

Tater is terrible and gets voted off of his team after the first round. One of the Falcs on Kent’s team is wheezing laughing about it—apparently Tater had bragged that he was amazing at drinking games.

“There are different games in Russia,” says Tater. “And don’t be cocky, Poots. You are not so good, either.”

Poots isn’t so good, and neither is the rest of Kent’s team, aside from him and Lardo. Their team loses the next three rounds in a row, so it’s just Lardo and Kent versus the four remaining Falcs from Tater’s team.

“Ready, Parson?” Lardo asks, voice low, before they start the next round. “I want to win, here.”

“You think I don’t want to win?” Kent looks down at all five cups on the table in the front of them. Even though they’re only partially filled, it’s still a little daunting.

“I’m just saying,” Lardo says. “Don’t fuck up.”

Kent has always responded to that kind of challenge. He hunches over the table and gets ready to drink.

In a glorious turnaround, the two of them crush the next four rounds in a row, eliminating the nameless Falcs one by one. When they beat the last guy, Lardo lets out a truly impressive belch in his face. She’s standing on top of the table to do it.

By this point, Kent is wasted. They’d alternated who drank three cups and who drank two each round, but Kent has still lost count of how much he’s had to drink. A lot. Too much. Kent is definitely at bad decisions level of intoxicated.

He wonders if Eric is still around.

“I gotta get some water,” Kent says, picking up an empty Solo cup from the table. Lardo nods and Kent wanders off. He’s hot and a little dizzy, and there are people everywhere, but he doesn’t see Eric’s blonde head in the crowd.

He does find Jack in the kitchen, though.

“Hey, Parse,” Jack says. He’s leaning back against the sink, maybe drinking his own cup of water. He looks a little tired. Kent wonders what time it is.

“One?” Jack shrugs. Kent realizes he must have asked that question aloud. “It might be later than that.”

“I just won the best fucking game of flip cup,” Kent says. He hip checks Jack over so he can get to the sink and fumble on the tap.

“Congratulations,” Jack says. “I guess you’re having fun?”

“I am having so much fun,” Kent says. It’s actually true, which is sort of surprising. Tonight has been awesome. Eric is cute and Kent is a champion. Everything’s coming up aces. The thought makes Kent laugh out loud. He is so fucking clever. Grinning up at Jack, Kent says, “I am so fucking funny.”

That makes Jack snort, but Kent knows the truth.

“Whatever you say,” Jack says, smiling gently. Kent tilts forward into his space mostly by accident and then forces himself to draw back. He takes a couple of steps away, going to lean against the kitchen island across from him.

 _No flirting with Jack,_ Kent tells himself firmly. _He’s dating someone else._

He thinks about that as he sips his water. Maybe he’s ready to meet Jack’s boyfriend, after all. It’s not really fair to not want to meet the guy. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Kent probably needs to figure out how to be actually happy for them, instead of just jealous.

It’s also definitely not healthy to keep pretending Bitty is ugly, in any case.

So Kent says, “Where’s the boyfriend, then?”

Jack sighs. “Bitty’s dealing with Chowder—he had a little too much fun, apparently.”

Kent frowns for a second. He thinks Chowder might be a person, not a soup. He’s met a Chowder before, and if Bitty were dealing with a soup, he’d probably be in the kitchen. But there’s no one but him and Jack in here.

“I meant that our friend Chowder is throwing up,” Jack says, taking pity on him. “Bitty is with him in the bathroom.”

“Aw,” says Kent. He’s not actually that disappointed about Bitty being busy—Kent tried! He was prepared to be good sport about it! It’s not his fault!—but he feels bad for Chowder. It’s not very fun to get so drunk you throw up.

Kent sips his water gravely. He hopes he won’t throw up tonight.

“You alright?” Jack says.

Kent is fine, but he’s also kind of dizzy and hot and tired and wobbly. He says, “I think I need to go home soon.”

Jack frowns. “You can crash here if you need to. I have an extra room.”

Kent takes another sip of water. “Hotel’s close,” he says. He takes his phone out of his pocket. “I think I’m gonna call an Uber.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” Jack says.

Kent fiddles with the app and after a moment it says his driver is seven minutes away. Then he remembers that he’d been looking for Eric before running into Jack. Where _is_ Eric?

“Okay, I wanna go say bye to some people,” Kent says, which is mostly but not entirely a lie. “It was good to see you, Zimms.”

Jack puts his cup on the counter and stands all the way up, like maybe he’s expecting a hug. Kent isn’t about to turn that kind of opportunity down, but he’s careful not to linger or anything weird when he does it. He pats Jack on the back, open-handed, and steps away.

“Seriously, I’m glad you invited me,” Kent says.

Jack smiles. “Glad you came.”

Kent leaves the kitchen and walks through the house. He finds Lardo and Tater and the other guy—Poots?—and says goodbye to them, but he doesn’t see Eric anywhere. Kent even goes back out to the deck, but there’s no one there.

Kent frowns to himself, standing out in the cool night air. Jack’s house isn’t very big. Maybe Eric left? He seemed sincere when he said he’d talk to Kent later, but maybe he forgot.

Finally, Kent just opens his text messages.

 _Heyyy thereeerrre_ , he types. He sends that, then adds, _Ericccxxcccc!!!!_

Kent stands there staring at his phone, but Eric doesn’t immediately respond. He keeps staring until his phone starts buzzing in his hand, some number he doesn’t have saved. The Uber driver. Kent answers, she says she’s outside, and Eric still hasn’t responded.

Kent frowns. Oh well. Not meant to be, clearly.

Kent is in the car, a couple minutes away from his hotel, when his phone vibrates with a new text.

 **Eric**  
(1:19 AM): oh, sorry! was helping a friend, I just put him to bed. what’s up?

 **Me**  
(1:20 AM): What’s flooding for you but you disappeared  
(1:20 AM): Was looking  
(1:20 AM): But downs t matter now I just left  
(1:21 AM): Going back to my hotel

 **Eric**  
(1:21 AM): aww, too bad  
(1:23 AM): why were you looking for me?

Kent bites his lip, thinking about it, but he finally settles on something safe.

 **Me**  
(1:26 AM): Just wanted to say bye before I left

 **Eric**  
(1:26 AM): well, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon!

Kent clicks off his phone screen, but something disappointed is twisting through his gut. He’s not going to see Eric again. Kent lives on the other side of the country. This was probably his only chance, and nothing came of it.

His Uber driver pulls up to the hotel, and a couple of minutes later, Kent is flopping down onto the bed in his room. His mood has gone completely sour. He should probably just go to sleep but now that he’s here he doesn’t want to anymore.

Kent huffs a sigh. He should have stayed at the party.

His phone screen says it’s 1:41 a.m. Late. Too late.

Eric might already be asleep.

He also might not be.

Kent wonders what would have happened if he’d responded, _was looking to flirt with this cute guy, thought you might have been able to help me with that_ when Eric asked why Kent was looking for him. What’s the worst thing that could have happened?

Kent stares at his phone, sitting on top of the comforter next to him.

The worst that can happen is Eric turns him down, and so what if he does? Kent is never going to see him again. It’s not like he’s going to be back in Providence any time soon.

Kent sighs again. If he doesn’t do it then he’ll just keep wondering what would have happened if he did.

 **Me**  
(1:45 AM): Still awake?

 **Eric**  
(1:45 AM): yeah, what’s up

 **Me**  
(1:46 AM): Back in my hotel room  
(1:46 AM): It’s a little lonely here

Kent stares down at his phone, heart pounding. It feels like it takes Eric a long time to respond.

 **Eric**  
(1:50 AM): bold move, Kent Parson

Kent frowns. At first it seems unfair that Eric knows his last name and Kent doesn’t know his, but then Kent decides it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes that’s just the price of celebrity. He doesn’t have to know Eric’s last name to know he wants to suck his dick, anyway.

 **Me**  
(1:51 AM): I’m a bold guy

 **Eric**  
(1:51 AM): that was bad  
(1:53 AM): how drunk are you?

 **Me**  
(1:53 AM): Drunk  
(1:53 AM): But like  
(1:53 AM): Not that drunk

 **Eric**  
(1:55 AM): aren’t you worried about how my boyfriend is gonna feel about this?

Kent raises his eyebrows. It’s unexpected, but he can roll with it. Maybe Eric's boyfriend is also cute.

 **Me**  
(1:56 AM): Is ur boyfriend interested  
(1:56 AM): He’s invited too

 **Eric**  
(1:59 AM): i’ll..... have to talk to him

Kent feels a thrill run through him, reading the message.

Almost ten minutes later, though, Eric still hasn’t responded.

Fuck.

The boyfriend wasn’t into it.

Kent launches himself off the bed, shucking off his jeans and going into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He feels sort of grumpy. If the answer is no, he wishes Eric would just tell him. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to keep waiting up for nothing.

When he finishes in the bathroom, he still doesn’t have a new message. Kent heaves another sigh. He sets an alarm for 9:30 the next morning and flops down onto the bed, shutting his eyes. The phone is on the nightstand, so he’ll hear it if it buzzes against the wood.

He’ll definitely hear it.

-

Kent wakes up to the horrible clanging of his alarm at 9:30 a.m. An awful ray of sunlight streams down onto his face. His head is pounding and he feels like he needs to drink, like, a gallon of water. The idea of standing up and going to _get_ some water is too terrible to even contemplate.

In short, he feels like shit. He is so fucking hungover.

The alarm is still beeping. All Kent wants to go is go back to sleep, but his flight is at 12:30. He has to drive all the way to Boston and return the rental car with enough time to spare to get through security afterward.

Ugh. Time to move. Kent groans, rolling over and mashing his fingers at his phone until the thing shuts up.

When he looks at the screen, he sees he has several unread messages.

Oh God.

What did he do last night?

Something to do with some blonde guy? Eric.

In a flash, Kent remembers propositioning him, suggesting a threesome, waiting for a response, and then… Nothing. He must have fallen asleep after that. In the light of morning, propositioning someone he’d just met through a text message seems like not the best plan Kent’s ever had, but whatever. The messages are gonna be some kind of awkward rejection, probably, and Kent will read it and feel a little embarrassed for a while and then he’ll get over it. It’s not like it’ll be the last time he does something embarrassing when he’s drunk.

Kent takes a breath and reads through the messages.

 **Eric**  
(2:15 AM): okay but Jack says you should come back here  
(2:22 AM): Kent?  
(2:30 AM): maybe you fell asleep? anyway, we’re really tired. going to bed :(

Kent stares.

Which Jack?

 _Jack_ Jack?

Kent reads the messages over and over again but they still don’t make sense to him. He has no idea how to process what he’s reading. There’s no way he propositioned Jack’s boyfriend, right? Jack’s boyfriend is named Bitty.

Something queasy turns over in the pit of his stomach.

Into his empty hotel room, Kent mutters, “What the fuck did I do last night?”

Kent opens his laptop, and then, for the first time in years, he actually looks at Jack’s Facebook page. Kent unfollowed him what feels like a million years ago, the moment that feature was first introduced. It had been horrible seeing Jack always getting tagged in pictures with all of his new, better Samwell friends when he’d first started school. Kent had always looked at them with a sick kind of fascination—he’d spend hours imagining how good they were for Jack, how well they all got along, how much Jack liked them… Anyway, it just. Wasn’t great. The best thing for Kent’s mental health had been avoiding all that shit. He didn’t want to go as far as defriending Jack, but it was sort of better not to see him on his Facebook news feed.

This time, though, Kent thinks he can handle it. He’s had the benefit of many years of regular therapy, so he’s in a way better place than he was back then. Honestly, the only reason he never actually refollowed Jack was because he’d never been sure he wanted to do it for the right reasons.

But this is different. Kent has to check this.

He goes right for Jack’s tagged pictures. It only takes him a second to find one of Jack and Eric hanging out. Kent hovers over the guy’s face. He’s tagged as “Eric Bittle”

Bittle.

Bitty.

Motherfucker.

Kent stares and stares and stares, until his phone’s snooze alarm goes off and Kent jerks so hard he nearly throws his laptop off of the bed.

He needs to calm down. There has to be something he’s missing. There’s just no way Kent is comprehending this situation right. Right?

He texts Eric, _You’re bitty. Eric bittle?_

 **Eric**  
(9:40 AM): uh. yeah?

Kent already knew it was true, but something bottoms out in the pit of his stomach anyway, seeing Eric’s confirmation. Seeing _Bitty’s_ confirmation. Oh god.

Kent can’t believe he asked Jack and Bitty if they wanted to have _sex_ with him. He’s never been this fucking mortified in his entire life.

It’s fucking bizarre that it seems like they said yes, but Kent can hardly think about that. It was obviously just a drunken mistake on their part. They’re probably both so fucking thankful that Kent passed out and nothing actually happened.

 **Eric**  
(9:41 AM): is everything okay?  
(9:42 AM): what happened to you last night?

It’s agonizing, but Kent forces himself to respond.

 **Me**  
(9:49 AM): Oh my god I am so fucking sorry. I seriously had no idea who you were. I would never have hit on you like that if I’d known, I was just drunk and an asshole and I can’t believe I didn’t realize you were Jack’s boyfriend. It was still incredibly inappropriate of me. I’m honestly so sorry. Tell Jack I’m so sorry.

He forces himself to text Jack, too, but even after several minutes of staring at his phone all Kent can think of to write is, _I’m sorry._ That’s definitely not enough, but at least it’s something.

Kent looks at the time and swears aloud. It’s almost 10, and he’s going to miss his fucking plane if he doesn’t get out of there soon. He still has to pack all his stupid clothes, and he has a splitting headache from drinking so much. Kent's too fucking old to be this hungover—he’s too fucking old to be this embarrassed, too. Wasn’t he supposed to have his shit together by now?

Before today, Kent would have said he kind of prided himself on the fact that he’d more or less finally started acting like a real adult. Apparently not. Twenty-nine years old and still making a fucking spectacle of himself in front of his ex. That’s just great.

“Get a fucking grip, Parson,” Kent mutters. He starts throwing his shit into a bag, and doesn’t stop to check his phone when it buzzes and buzzes and keeps buzzing.

Kent doesn’t want to know. This whole situation is a fucking nightmare.

Just when he’d started to have a basically normal relationship with Jack.

Fuck.

-

Kent has a great excuse to avoid the messages while he’s driving to the airport, but the hour passes quickly with Britney Spears blaring from the car’s sound system. Once he drops off the rental, he doesn’t have any excuse not to look anymore. It’s not like he can avoid reading his texts forever.

He ends up scrolling through them while he’s waiting in line to check in for his flight. There are texts from both of them, but Kent goes for Eric’s messages first. Somehow that just seems less scary.

 **Eric**  
(9:52 AM): holy fuck  
(9:52 AM): you didn’t know???  
(9:53 AM): I thought you knew. oh my god  
(9:53 AM): how could you not know  
(9:54 AM): like I assumed that was why you were flirting with me???  
(9:55 AM): you just thought I was some random guy???

Kent already felt like a fucking idiot, but Eric’s messages really drive the point home. In retrospect, it seems pretty obvious. Kent isn’t surprised that Eric is incredulous.

It’s all so stupid. Jack has been telling Kent about Bitty for nearly five years. Who’d believe that Kent never looked him up? Who’d believe Kent honestly didn’t know what he looked like? That he couldn’t put two and two together when he actually met the guy? It seems totally ridiculous.

He takes a deep breath and opens the conversation with Jack.

 **Me**  
(9:52 AM): I’m sorry.

 **Zimms**  
(9:53 AM): For what?  
(9:53 AM): Because you fell asleep?  
(9:58 AM): Oh.  
(10:04 AM): It’s okay.

Kent is staring at the screen, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to say to that, when the woman behind the desk says, “Sir? Do you have your driver’s license or a passport with you?”

Kent jerks his head up. The woman is smiling blandly at him.

“Sorry,” Kent says, shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Later. He can deal with that later. “Hold on, sorry, I have my ID right here—”

-

Just as he’s boarding the plane, Kent’s phone vibrates against his ass several times where it’s still stuffed in the back of his jeans. His heart leaps in his chest, but he doesn’t actually have the chance to check it until he’s in his seat.

It’s not Jack.

 **Eric**  
(12:16 PM): oh my god I just remembered you introduced yourself to me when I first came outside I can’t believe I didn’t realize you didn’t know who I was  
(12:16 PM): holy fuck this is so awkward  
(12:16 PM): look we’re both mortified about this  
(12:17 PM): let’s just.... forget the whole thing. honest mistakes all around

Kent has no fucking clue what to say to either of them. He doesn’t know why Bitty is so embarrassed—Kent was the one who made an ass of himself, coming onto a stranger who was _dating his ex._ But he’s about to be on the flight for the next several hours. He has to say something.

 **Me**  
(12:25 PM): Right. Okay. No problem.

Kent turns off the screen, then thinks about it for a second longer and turns his whole phone off. He’s gonna have to turn it off in a little while anyway. Might as well do it now.

Kent sighs. He tries to tell himself it’s going to be okay. He’ll be back in Vegas in a couple of hours, and then he can just put this whole thing behind him. Go back to normal. It’ll all be fine.

-

The next morning, Kent snaps awake the moment his phone buzzes on the bedside table.

 _Now_ his phone actually wakes him up. Of course.

Kent huffs a sigh, petting a hand along Kit Purrson’s back. Her favorite spot to sleep is on the middle of Kent’s chest, but he doesn’t mind. Some cats like to sit on their owner’s faces. Kent considers himself lucky. At least with regards to Kit.

Kent slants a glance over at his bedside table. He’s not in the best mood he’s ever been in. He slept badly all night, waking up every couple of hours, to the point that it feels like he hardly slept at all.

And now someone’s texted him. Kent honestly doesn’t want to know what it says. It’s gonna something horrible, probably. Frankly, Kent never wants to send or receive another text message in his whole miserable life. That seems like the best possible scenario for him at this point.

But it’s not like he’s going to be able to fall back asleep. He’s exhausted, but he can already tell there’s no point in trying. He’s awake. It’s time to face the day and whatever stupidity it’s gonna bring him.

Kent rolls over, reaching for his phone, which makes Kit meow in complaint. He runs one hand down her back as he thumbs on the screen.

 **Zimms**  
(6:23 AM): 15 miles, 1:48:12.

 **Me**  
(6:26 AM): Jesus Christ Jack  
(6:26 AM): What kinda fucking steam were you blowing off this morning

The moment Kent sends it he realizes exactly what kinda steam Jack was blowing off. Shit. Eric was right. This is fucking awkward.

 **Zimms**  
(6:28 AM): Well, first of all, I am not going to win the Stanley Cup this year.

The “second of all” hovers unsaid.

Christ.

Kent forces himself out of bed, suddenly antsy. Kit jumps down to the floor next to him, rubbing herself against his legs. Kent can’t believe he’s gone and made things so weird with Jack. They were finally friends again, and now this? It just seems unbelievably stupid. Why the fuck didn’t Kent look Bitty up ahead of time? That’s what any normal person would have done. God.

Kit makes a loud mewling complaint at him from the floor. It’s her _breakfast now_ meow.

“Hey, honey,” Kent says. “At least things are normal with you, huh?”

He sighs again. All he can really do is push through all the weirdness with Jack and hope it will get better. Jack will forget about Kent’s horrifying, weird, inappropriate advance—and the fact that he almost _drunkenly accepted it_ —eventually, right? Probably? It’s a good sign that he’s texting Kent more or less like normal, at least.

Kent’s gotta just try to do the same. Fake it till you make it, et cetera.

 **Me**  
(6:31 AM): Well I’m not gonna fuckin run 15 miles today, that’s for sure

 **Zimms**  
(6:34 AM): It was fun.

 **Me**  
(6:34 AM): Ur a very strange guy zimms

-

The thing is, Kent can’t pretend it didn’t happen. All day he thinks about it, like picking at a scab.

It’s just—there’s a lot that Kent doesn’t get about the whole thing. First of all, Jack is crazy about Bitty. Kent has heard all about him, and from what Jack has said, Bitty seems genuinely awesome. Jack talks constantly about how smart he is, how thoughtful, how he takes care of people, how he wants what’s best for everyone, how he’s the most talented baker in the world, an amazing athlete… the whole package. He’s basically just totally and completely perfect in every way.

So Kent never would have guessed that Bitty would be the kind of guy to flirt with someone else behind his boyfriend’s back. That’s shitty, doesn’t at all fit with the guy Jack has described.

Then again, was Eric really flirting with Kent _behind_ Jack’s back? When Kent actually propositioned him, Eric brought up his boyfriend right away, which was surprisingly upfront of him. If he was trying to cheat on Jack, it wouldn’t make any sense for him to do that.

But that doesn’t actually help him understand what happened. Why didn’t Bitty just immediately tell Kent to fuck off?

As far as he can tell, Jack and Bitty are both totally devoted to each other. It just doesn’t make sense that Bitty apparently discussed the possibility of a threesome with Kent like there was at all a remote chance Jack would be into it.

But then… Jack was apparently down for it? That makes so little sense that Kent doesn’t actually believe it. It’s absurd. This is _Jack._ It’s been obvious to Kent for ten years that Jack was over him. Their relationship was always lopsided, and it stayed like that after they broke up. That’s just how it was: Kent always longing, Jack always pushing him away. That’s just how it was with them. That was one of the many fucking reasons it was never going to work out.

It’s completely obvious that Jack has moved on. He’s been dating Bitty for forever, and he still gushes about him all the fucking time, always talking about how great Bitty is, how sweet, how kind, how perfect and wonderful and everything Kent isn’t.

Bitty is obviously the love of his life. Jack is never going to be interested in someone else. It just doesn’t make sense.

Unless… maybe they have threesomes all the time? Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to Jack. Maybe it’s something fun, no big deal, just meaningless sex. That doesn’t really seem like something Jack would be into—Kent never knew him to do anything that casually—but then again, what the fuck does Kent know? It’s been years since he’s really known Jack at all. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he and Bitty fuck a new guy every week, whoever’s around and interested and available. Maybe that’s it.

Maybe.

Finally, Kent just can’t take it anymore. It’s awkward as hell, but he has to ask. He just needs to know. Then he’ll be able to drop it.

 **Me**  
(5:34 PM): Do you guys have a lot of threesomes?

 **Eric**  
(5:36 PM): uh… no.

This isn’t the answer Kent expected. But maybe they were having trouble finding someone? He can’t imagine anyone actually turning them _down_ , but Jack has reason to be choosy. Even Kent himself only has about half as much sex as he’d like to, because sometimes he just doesn’t trust the other guy to be discreet. Jack is also probably less prone to getting slightly too drunk and thinking, _Fuck it, if I’m on the front page of Perez Hilton tomorrow morning at least I won’t have to come out._

Still. If that’s the reason, if it was just that Jack trusted Kent to be discreet… Well, Kent wants to know that’s why. He just needs to know if that’s what this was about.

 **Me**  
(5:39 PM): Were you just like. Desperate for someone who you knew wouldn’t go to the media?  
(5:39 PM): I mean because you two could pick up any guy easy so I can’t think what else would have been going on

 **Eric**  
(5:39 PM): what??? no it wasn’t like that at all  
(5:39 PM): I mean I was kinda surprised but I assumed you knew who I was and that was why you were doing it so  
(5:40 PM): obviously I misread the whole situation which was totally my fault. like just don’t worry about it. it’s fine

Kent has no idea why Bitty thinks he was only interested in him because of his connection to Jack. Bitty is cute and funny and perfectly worth hitting on just on his own merit. It’s weird that he doesn’t seem to know that, and Kent replies to the message before he thinks too much about it.

 **Me**  
(5:40 PM): No I honestly just thought you were cute

The moment Kent sends it he wants to shove his head in a trash can. Maybe someday he’ll stop being _wildly inappropriate_ , but apparently today is not that day.

 **Me**  
(5:40 PM): Fuck wait forget I said that

Probably the best way to save this conversation is to just change the subject. And Kent kind of wants to follow up on the whole “it wasn’t like that at all” thing, anyway.

 **Me**  
(5:43 PM): Ok also I’m still confused?  
(5:43 PM): Like if you knew who I was the whole time why didn't you shut me down right away???

It takes forever for Bitty to respond, and what comes when he does is not particularly enlightening.

 **Eric**  
(5:48 PM): uh  
(5:48 PM): I mean

Kent stares at his phone. He’s half-convinced that Bitty isn’t going to respond at all when the text finally arrives.

 **Eric**  
(5:51 PM): you're ?? you???

Kent frowns at his phone.

He types, _I don't know what that means_ and then stares at the screen until it lights up again with Bitty’s response.

 **Eric**  
(5:52 PM): ok like I said I was surprised?? but you and Jack have been close for years  
(5:53 PM): it didn’t seem totally out of the blue?  
(5:53 PM): like I absolutely misinterpreted. it’s my fault for making an assumption

He doesn’t know what any of that means, either. This whole thing keeps getting weirder and weirder. His phone starts buzzing with more texts before he can actually figure out anything to say back.

 **Eric**  
(5:55 PM): I don’t know it seemed like maybe that’s where things were heading between y’all?  
(5:55 PM): I mean it’s not like Jack is pining or something. we’d like hardly talked about it before you asked if we were interested  
(5:55 PM): it’s not like that’s specifically why Jack invited you to the party or something  
(5:56 PM): ugh. I’m babbling. this is so embarrassing. I’m just gonna stop  
(5:56 PM): sorry  
(6:00 PM): let's just forget about all of this

Kent’s heart pounds as he reads through the messages, one after another. He can’t believe what he’s reading. Bitty and Jack hardly talked about it at all? Does that mean they talked about it _some?_ The idea is overwhelming. He doesn’t know what it means.

He also doesn’t want to get his hopes up. None of it probably means anything.

Kent thinks that he needs to lie down. He leaves his phone in the living room and goes to his bedroom, lies on his back, and stares up at the ceiling.

A week ago, he would have said he was only sure about two things.

1\. He fucking loved hockey.

2\. His feelings for Jack were sad and pathetic and fucking hopeless.

As far as Kent had been concerned, those two things were irrefutably true. They’d always been true and they were always going to be true. Getting over Jack Zimmermann was just something Kent had to do, like dogs had to go for walks and cats had to sharpen their claws.

Kent knew that Jack was over him. He knew that nothing was going to happen between them, ever, at all. He’d spent the entirety of his twenties trying to figure out how to accept that, and he fucking had. He’d accepted it. He knew it was all true.

Or. That was what he’d known.

Kent doesn’t know what he knows anymore.

He’s just so fucking tired. It’s a lot to wrap his head around, is all. Overhead, the ceiling is smooth and white and blank.

Kent shuts his eyes.

What a weekend.

-

Kent wakes up to the feeling of Kit purring on his chest, curled up in her usual spot. He actually feels well-rested, for once. The sun is warm and bright where it streams in through a gap in his curtains, the light falling gently across his face. He can hear birds chirping outside his window.

Suddenly it all seems so clear.

Kent doesn’t have one fucking clue what Jack and Bitty were thinking, but it doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t. They wanted him. For some strange fucking reason, they wanted him. Just for sex, sure, but that’s something.

Kent can work with that.

-

He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to do about it, though.

Instead of making a decision, Kent drives to the gym, where he beats his personal record for fastest 5K with a time of 19 minutes and 26 seconds. He texts Jack to brag about it immediately afterward. After that, Kent lifts weights, beating a couple personal records there as well. He brags about that to Jack, too.

It all feels deliciously normal. Kent is in such a great mood that he actually sends Jack a selfie when he’s done with the strength training—just a picture of himself in the mirror, sitting on a bench. His shirt is kind of sweaty but he thinks his hair still looks okay. When he takes the picture, he keeps his arm relaxed by his side, though he can’t help subtly flexing his bicep a little. But that’s what everyone does for gym selfies.

Jack replies, _Looks like you had a good workout._

Kent grins down at his phone. He did have a good workout. He’s determined to follow it up with a good _day._

-

On the way home a little later, on a whim, Kent stops at this bakery he always sees on the way back to his place. He’s never stopped in before, but the name of it always makes him laugh: _Nothing Bundt Cakes._

A bell chimes when Kent walks in the door, and the woman behind the counter calls out a friendly greeting. The whole place smells wonderful. There’s a glass case with a bunch of different mini-cakes inside, in flavors from strawberries ’n cream to red velvet.

Kent takes a picture of the case and sends it to Bitty with a text that says, _Ur the baker. What should I get?_

Bitty responds quickly.

 **Eric**  
(2:03 PM): do they only have cake??  
(2:03 PM): if they only have cake I’d probably go for the pecan praline personally  
(2:04 PM): red velvet is also always a good choice

 **Me**  
(2:04 PM): I’m gonna get both  
(2:04 PM): It’s the off season

 **Eric**  
(2:04 PM): Jack is sitting next to me and he’s appalled

 **Me**  
(2:04 PM): Spoilsport  
(2:05 PM): I’m still getting both cakes  
(2:05 PM): I had a good workout and I deserve it

 **Eric**  
(2:05 PM): Jack says he’s speechless

 **Me**  
(2:06 PM): He liked my selfie that much? I’m flattered

 **Eric**  
(2:06 PM): selfie?????  
(2:07 PM): oh nevermind he showed me!  
(2:07 PM): I think you do deserve two cakes

 **Me**  
(2:07 PM): I’m gonna assume that means you also liked it.

 **Eric**  
(2:08 PM): stop chirping me and eat your damn cakes, Parson

When Kent orders, the woman behind the counter gives him a fond look.

“Texting someone special?” she asks.

Kent grins at her and hands her his card. “Dunno. Maybe.”

-

Swoops texts him later asking if he wants to get dinner with some of the guys, which sounds like a plan to Kent. Team dinners are great, though sometimes also kind of rowdy, at least during the off season when everyone actually has the luxury of the time to sleep off a hangover. Which is why Kent is a little drunk when the Uber drops him off back at his apartment that evening.

He'd been thinking about Jack and Bitty all through dinner.

Plan Selfie went over well, he thinks. His conversation with Bitty earlier was pretty much amazing. He’s just not really sure what his next move is. All Kent can think of to do is just… blatantly start sexting one or both of them, which seems pretty shameless. Maybe that’s coming on too strong? He doesn’t want to be weird.

The more Kent thinks about it, though, the more that’s exactly what he wants to do. So what if they think he’s shameless, right? Why should Kent feel embarrassed about hitting on people who’ve already expressed interest in him? Maybe he shouldn’t assume they’re relieved that nothing happened. Maybe they’re just as disappointed as Kent is. There’s a chance, at least.

Besides, if they’ve changed their mind, they can just tell him so. Even if they wanted to make a move, it’s not like they’re ever going to, considering how badly Kent freaked out on them. The only way anything is going to happen is if Kent does something about it. And Kent isn’t really the kind of person to just let things go.

He settles down on the couch with his phone, thinking it over. This might be a terrible idea, but it might also be a really awesome idea. Kent’s not always sure of the difference.

 **Me**  
(9:35 PM): Ok so. I know it’s kinda late there and I’m a little drunk but  
(9:35 PM): Like ok u didn’t shut me down the first time which was weird so I'm gonna just....... try it again  
(9:36 PM): Lemme know if that’s not cool just tell me to stop or something alright  
(9:36 PM): It’s just that I keep thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t fallen asleep  
(9:36 PM): You’re honestly both so fucking hot I can’t imagine what you’re like together

 **Eric**  
(9:37 PM): oh. I??? oh my gosh

Kent bites his lip, unsure how he’s supposed to respond to that. It doesn’t necessarily seem like a negative response, but he doesn’t want to make Bitty uncomfortable, either. And maybe he needs to ask Jack again? Kent isn’t sure. While he thinks about it, he wanders back into the kitchen to grab a beer, leaving his phone back on the coffee table.

When he gets back, he has another message. Moment of truth.

 **Eric**  
(9:39 PM): um also that wasn’t me telling you to stop

Kent grins. Go time. He starts with something easy.

 **Me**  
(9:39 PM): What would u guys have done if I’d come over?

He lies back against the armrest, stretching his legs out in front of him, trying to get more comfortable. It takes a little while for Bitty to respond, and Kent wonders if he’s embarrassed. He and Jack were long distance when they first got together, and Jack is still regularly gone for roadies during the season. Don’t they ever sext? Or maybe Bitty’s just nervous because it’s Kent.

Eventually his phone buzzes where it’s resting on his chest, and Kent picks it up to look at the screen.

 **Eric**  
(9:41 PM): I don’t know. um. we didn’t really take anything off the table??  
(9:41 PM): whatever you wanted probably idk

Heh. Whatever Kent wanted, huh? He can definitely work with that. It does give him an infinite number of options, though. He takes some time to think it over. Kent is pretty damn good at dirty talk, if he does say so himself, but sexting is a little different, and he’s not quite sure where he wants to go with this.

 **Me**  
(9:41 PM): Hmmmm

He’s definitely gonna write some fucking awesome sexts tonight, though. He’s gonna make it so good. Bitty doesn’t even know what he’s in for.

Kent closes his eyes and imagines standing in the doorway of Jack and Bitty’s room, watching Bitty stretched out on his stomach on the bed. Jack would crawl up over him, run his hands down over his shoulders and back. Bitty would arch up as Jack pressed into him, and Kent would get an eyeful of Jack’s gorgeous ass and thighs in the process, the flex of his muscles bunching with each thrust.

It's a nice image.

 **Eric**  
(9:43 PM): ?????

Kent realizes he’s waited too long to follow up on his train of thought. He types another quick couple of messages out to Bitty.

 **Me**  
(9:43 PM): I would have loved to watch Jack fuck you  
(9:43 PM): Can’t believe I missed out on that

But when Kent thinks about it, he wonders whether or not that’s what would have been likely. Maybe that's not how they usually do it. Sure, Bitty is about as twinky as they come, but it's not like every twink in the world is a bottom. Kent shouldn't make assumptions, so he adds, _Or is that even how you normally do it?_

Kent knows some of the things Jack liked. He remembers. God, he fucking remembers.

 **Me**  
(9:44 PM): Jack used to love when I fucked him. Does he still get loud?  
(9:44 PM): I used to have to stuff my tshirt in his mouth just to keep everyone from hearing us

Kent palms his dick through his sweatpants—he's mostly hard but feeling lazy about it, not quite ready to jerk off in earnest. He kind of wants to see where this goes first.

 **Eric**  
(9:44 PM): holy shit

Kent waits a couple of minutes, but that seems like all Eric is going to say. He frowns. Maybe he should check in again?

 **Me**  
(9:46 PM): Still okay?

 **Eric**  
(9:46 PM): and um. we switch. honestly the tshirt thing is a good idea  
(9:46 PM): no  
(9:46 PM): keep going  
(9:47 PM): Jack is here

A thrill runs through Kent, reading that. He’s absolutely interested in Bitty all by himself, but it’s even better knowing that he’s talking to both of them. He sends, _Oh yeah? Awesome_ just as his phone vibrates again.

 **Eric**  
(9:47 PM): well he was always here he was asleep but he’s awake now

Kent snorts. Of course Jack was asleep. He probably should have seen that coming. It’s what, nearly one there?

 **Me**  
(9:47 PM): Oops sorry  
(9:47 PM): Should have realized lol

 **Eric**  
(9:48 PM): he says it’s okay  
(9:48 PM): “it’s worth it”  
(9:49 PM): **** “worth getting up for, eh?”  
(9:49 PM): apparently I’m always supposed to quote him verbatim

As entertaining as the conversation is, Kent also wants to bring it back to his original purpose. Plus, knowing Jack’s there gives him some ideas. Kent doesn’t really know what Bitty likes, but he thinks he might still remember how to get Jack going.

 **Me**  
(9:50 PM): Well I’m glad you’re both here  
(9:50 PM): Jack remember when I used to fuck you in the car behind the rink after practice when we were in the q  
(9:50 PM): We were always the last ones to leave. They thought we were so fucking serious about hockey lol

 **Zimms**  
(9:50 PM): We were serious about hockey.  
(9:51 PM): We were mostly serious about hockey.

Kent’s heart leaps when Jack’s name pops up on his phone screen. It’s not like his message should be a surprise—Bitty just told him that Jack was there with him. Kent already knew that Jack was reading everything Kent sent over Bitty’s shoulder, but. It’s just. There’s something visceral about Jack actually responding to a message that he’d sent to Bitty. Suddenly it feels even more like the three of them are doing this. Kent didn’t actually know you could _have_ a sexting threesome, but now that it’s happening, it’s even more awesome than he could have imagined.

Kent suddenly realizes he can tell them to do things. Together. The idea of that is fucking hot.

And Jack always liked getting a little direction, before.

Kent sends his next couple of messages to Jack.

 **Me**  
(9:51 PM): You should suck bitty off  
(9:51 PM): Have him send me a picture  
(9:51 PM): I miss the way you looked with your pretty mouth stretched around my cock

The reaction is nearly instantaneous, but it doesn’t come from Jack.

 **Eric**  
(9:52 PM): oh my god what did you send to Jack  
(9:52 PM): he’s so red  
(9:54 PM): oh my god  
(9:55 PM): what's your snapchat

Kent is fucking _delighted._ He wasn’t really sure if they’d be willing to send him pictures or not—it’s sort of risky, even if no one keeps the pictures. He and Jack used to do it anyway, when they dated, but they were young and stupid back then.

 **Me**  
(9:55 PM): mskittypurrson

Even now, Kent sometimes still takes nudes of himself or guys he’s fucking. Even though he never sends them to anyone and he always deletes the pictures after an hour or two, Kent is fully aware that he’s sort of tempting fate every time he does it.

Part of Kent thinks that’s why he does it. So he would have understood if Jack had wised up and decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

Kent’s not gonna lie, though. He’s kind of happy that Jack hasn’t.

It takes a second before _ebittle11_ adds him, but the moment Kent adds him back, he has a red notification that Bitty’s sent him a picture.

Kent hesitates a second before clicking on the snap. He’s weirdly nervous. It’s going to be a picture of Jack—beautiful, sexy, incredible, _unattainable_ Jack. Kent is about to see something he never thought he’d see again.

Then the notification turns purple with an incoming video, and Kent forgets to worry about it. He wants to _see_. He makes sure his sound is on and then clicks on the notification.

The picture comes first: a close-up of Jack, kneeling on the bed between Bitty’s spread thighs. His head is ducked slightly, so Kent can just see the tops of his cheeks, tinted pink with his blush. The outline of Bitty’s cock is clearly visible through his fabric of his little Providence-blue short shorts. It’s one of the hottest fucking things Kent has ever seen in his life. He reaches into his sweats and wraps a hand around his dick—if he wasn’t ready before, he absolutely is now.

Suddenly the image changes: there’s sound, and Jack is moving, nuzzling at the fabric over Bitty’s cock.

“Say hi to Kent, honey,” Bitty says, off camera, voice low and honey-thick.

Jack lifts his head, blinking. He looks past the camera at Bitty for a second, but then his eyes drop and he’s looking right into it.

Right at Kent.

“Hi, Kenny,” says Jack. He smiles, a little shy.

Kent nearly fucking comes right then.

When the video ends, there’s already another, this time of Jack tugging down Bitty’s shorts. Bitty’s cock springs out, gorgeous and thick and flushed. Kent only sees a flash of it before Jack leans down to take it into his mouth, his dark head of hair blocking Kent’s view.

Just before the videos ends, Bitty moans, “Oh, shit—Jack—”

There isn’t another video yet, so Kent quickly records one of himself jerking off with the caption _you guys are so fucking hot_. Bitty sends back a selfie with the blushing emoji, and then a video of his cock pushing slowly in and out of Jack’s mouth.

By this point, Kent is fisting himself in earnest. He’d be embarrassed about how close he is, except this is one of the most exciting things that’s ever happened to him, so he’s honestly mostly surprised at his stamina.

In the next couple of videos, Bitty starts talking to him, things like, “Do you like watching us?” and, “Doesn’t he have a gorgeous mouth?” It’s kind of driving Kent crazy, in a good way. It seems like it’s driving Jack crazy too: at some point he's flattened out on his stomach, and his hips are twitching against the mattress as he sucks Bitty off. It’s pretty much the best thing Kent’s ever seen.

Through Snapchat, he messages Bitty with _I’m gonna come._ He gets another video and then Bitty’s reply. 

> **Bitty**  
>  try to record it  
>  want to see you

Kent desperately wants to watch the video, but he knows if he watches it now there’s no way he’s going to be able to catch a video of himself coming, so he opens the camera instead. From Bitty’s first couple of texts, Kent expected him to be a little shy, but he’s got a shockingly dirty mouth on him once he gets going. Kent can’t wait to hear more of it. And he’s probably going to get to.

Holy shit.

How did his life get this good?

Kent just manages to press down on the circle to record the video before he comes all over his hand.

He sends it off to Bitty and then starts to watch the couple of videos that have queued up in the meanwhile. In the first one, Bitty cards his fingers through Jack’s hair, stroking his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

“You’re so good, baby,” he says. Jack moans around his cock. “You’re so hot. Can’t wait to show this to Kent, he’s gonna see how good you are.” His voice is a little strained, and Kent thinks he must be close, too.

The video ends and changes to one of Bitty arching up into Jack’s mouth. The filming is shaky, like Bitty is having trouble keeping the camera steady, and then he’s saying, “Oh, fuck, oh god, Jack, oh, _Jack_ , keep going, come on, just like that—” The break in Bitty’s voice is almost enough to stir a little interest in Kent’s dick.

The next video is of Bitty’s face. “You just said you were going to come. I want you to, Kent, I want to see you, please, oh fuck—” He whimpers, and then his eyes widen. “You’re—oh, Kent, you just sent something—I, oh, did you—?” Then the video cuts out.

He messages Bitty, _Wow._

Bitty replies with a picture of him and Jack lying on their bed, looking sweaty and post-coital. The caption says _yeah._ Jack is nuzzled into Bitty’s neck, eyes shut, and it gives Kent a flash of memory: a teenage Jack curled against his side, breathing slow and even. Apparently Jack still gets clingy after sex.

Kent types out a message to Bitty, frowning. 

> **Me**  
>  Did Jack come?  
>  When did that happen?
> 
> **Bitty**  
>  um  
>  yeah  
>  he liked being recorded
> 
> **Me**  
>  Holy fuck

When the initial surge of _oh god what the fuck that’s so hot I can’t believe this_ passes Kent just feels annoyed again. Stupid long-distance sex. He wouldn’t have missed it if he was really there. 

> **Me**  
>  Sad I missed it :(
> 
> **Bitty**  
>  hahaha awww  
>  I actually missed it too  
>  was distracted by your videos  
>  we’ll make it up to you another time ;)

Something warm blossoms in Kent’s chest. 

> **Me**  
>  Cool :)

-

The next day Kent has a meeting with Aces management, just talking about their goals for the team for the next year and some other PR bullshit that he’s obliged to deal with as Captain, and the whole time, he keeps thinking about Bitty’s cock in Jack’s mouth.

It’s usually a little difficult to pay attention during these kind of meetings, but it is absolutely impossible when his brain is assaulting him with images of what he’d done the night before.

It doesn’t help that he’s been texting Jack all morning. Jack is trying to get him to watch this hockey documentary about Gretzky. It sounds interesting—it’s about his trade to the Kings—and Kent actually does plan to watch it, but he’s enjoying giving Jack a hard time about it in the meantime. (“Everyone already knows all about that, why should I watch a documentary about it?” “It’s interesting to hear all of the details. My dad’s version was really biased. I liked it. I think you should really give it a chance.”)

Even though their conversation is perfectly innocuous, Kent sits up a little straighter every time the phone vibrates with a new message. He keeps wanting to ask, _what do you think about last night?_ but that would be totally weird.

When he’s finally free, he sends a group text to Bitty and Jack as he’s walking to his car.

 **Me**  
(4:26 PM): I was so distracted in my meeting today because of you guys  
(4:26 PM): I’ve been thinking about last night all day  
(4:26 PM): It was so fucking hot

His phone buzzes after he’s already on the road, and he spends several impatient minutes waiting to get stopped by a red light so he can read them.

Finally, a light turns yellow in front of him. Kent stops even though he has plenty of time to get through the intersection, which makes the guy behind him honk loudly. Kent doesn’t really give a fuck. Some people are in way too much of a hurry. He needs to read his texts.

And oh, _oh_. Their response is even better than Kent anticipated.

 **Eric**  
(4:29 PM): omg

 **Zimms**  
(4:30 PM): Haha. Sorry.

 **Eric**  
(4:30 PM): are you home now?  
(4:30 PM): maybe me and Jack can help you out with that

He types out a quick, _10 min, driving_ so they don’t think they’re getting ignored, and then he focuses back on the road.

When Kent finally gets to his place, he parks in the deck and half trips out of the car in his hurry to get inside. He checks his messages as he rides the elevator up to his apartment.

 **Eric**  
(4:35 PM): don’t text and drive mister!!

 **Me**  
(4:48 PM): Okay, home  
(4:48 PM): It’s ok I was at a red light before ;)

Kent’s heart is pounding. He knows that Bitty said the other night that they might do this again, but part of him didn’t totally expect it. But here they are all over again. It’s fucking awesome.

 **Eric**  
(4:48 PM): sooooo you were thinking about us all day

 **Me**  
(4:49 PM): Hell yeah I was  
(4:49 PM): Where are you? What are you doing?

He wonders what they’ve been doing for the past twenty minutes. Waiting in anticipation? Are they as worked up as Kent is?

Bitty texts him again just as Kent gets inside his place.

 **Eric**  
(4:50 PM): we're in our bedroom lying on the bed  
(4:50 PM): Jack is running his fingers over my stomach

 **Me**  
(4:52 PM): Yeah? You like how that feels?

He pauses by his living room, not sure where he wants to go, but in the end he heads for his bedroom. That’s where Bitty and Jack are. Maybe if Kent is in his room, he can pretend he’s there with them more easily. Worth a shot, at least.

 **Eric**  
(4:52 PM): it feels really good. he's kissing my neck now

Kent wishes he could see them, but even still, he can just imagine it, Jack pressed against Bitty’s side, his fingers grazing lightly over the flat plane of Bitty’s stomach. Kent wonders how much hair Bitty has there. Probably not much. Maybe a line of fine blonde hair running down his stomach, down to his crotch?

 **Eric**  
(4:52 PM): we’ve just been lying here waiting for you

 **Me**  
(4:53 PM): Fuck  
(4:53 PM): That’s so hot  
(4:53 PM): Also I can’t believe Zimmermann still has a neck kink

Kent actually kind of can believe it, because Jack was _always_ kissing Kent’s neck back when they were teenagers, even though hickies were dangerous and Kent didn’t personally think it was worth the risk. But it wasn’t like Kent wasn’t into risky behavior himself sometimes, anyway, so he didn’t really have a leg to stand on in that argument. Besides, it was pretty hot how much Jack liked it. Kent never really wanted to tell him to stop doing it.

 **Eric**  
(4:54 PM): hahaha some things never change  
(4:54 PM): what about you? what are you doing?

 **Me**  
(4:54 PM): I’m in my bed. I’m hard

 **Eric**  
(4:54 PM): yeah  
(4:55 PM): me too  
(4:55 PM): you should touch yourself

Kent’s about to do so when his phone starts vibrating in his hand with an incoming call. It’s Bitty.

“Hi?” Kent says, a little surprised but mostly turned on. He didn’t expect Bitty to call. He presses the heel of his hand against his cock. Are they going to have phone sex now?

“Hey there,” Bitty drawls, and yes, _yes_ , that’s what’s about to happen. Kent tips his head back, closes his eyes. Holy fuck.

“I didn’t expect you to call,” Kent says, stupidly.

“Hi,” says Jack, and oh, Kent is on _speaker_. “Bitty thought this might be easier. I was kind of jealous that he was the only one who could talk to you yesterday.”

“Oh,” Kent says. Jack was jealous? No way. “Wasn’t really like you could have said anything with Bitty’s dick in your mouth, though.”

Jack starts coughing, which makes Bitty cackle with laughter.

“Oh my god,” Bitty says. “You should see his face. He just got so red.”

Kent feels a little pleased. Jack clears his throat loudly. “I just meant. In principle. It would be nice to be able to hear to you.”

“Okay,” Kent says. “Cool. Phone sex is cool.”

“What do you want us to do?” Bitty says.

The options are overwhelming. Kent doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know. Fuck.”

“Hmmm, we could do that,” Bitty teases. It sounds like he’s smiling. Kent wishes he could see it. He bets Bitty has a great smile.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Kent says. “But yes. That would be awesome.”

“Jack, what do you think, baby?” Bitty asks. “You wanna fuck me? You want me to to fuck you?”

“Ahhh, um.” Jack sounds overwhelmed. Kent sympathizes; Bitty is _overwhelming_. “Yeah. Um. Yes. Both. I mean, either. Or. Will you fuck me?”

“Holy shit,” Kent says. On the other end of the line, Bitty laughs and laughs and laughs.

Finally he manages, “Yes, honey, sure.”

Kent wonders what Jack’s expression looks like. Is he blushing? How wide are his pupils dilated? Is his jaw slack, his gaze unfocused? Or something else altogether? Fuck. Kent wishes he could see it.

He wraps a hand around his dick, but he honestly feels a little frustrated. He likes that they can talk in real time, without a delay like they had with the videos, but he can’t _see_ anything. What are they doing? How are they sitting? Are they touching?

Kent says, “I wish I could see you.”

“Ugh, me too,” says Bitty.

“Yeah,” says Jack.

There’s a beat. At least they’re all on the same page.

Bitty hums. “This isn’t quite working as well as I’d hoped.”

Before he knows what he’s saying, Kent’s suggesting, “We could Skype?”

 _Shit_ , Kent thinks.

But then there’s Bitty’s bright voice going, “Ohhh. Yes. Let’s." The anxiety budding in Kent’s chest dissolves at the sound of it.

“Let me get my laptop,” Kent says. “I’ll talk to you guys again in a second.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Bitty says, and hangs up.

Kent grins to himself. This day is just getting better and better.

His life is kind of fucking amazing.

-

It goes on like that.

They text each other at least a little bit every day, and it’s all just normal friendly shit, exactly like Kent and Jack have done for years, except now there's Bitty, too, and most nights Kent ends up jerking off on his webcam while he watches Jack and Bitty have sex. After the first two days, he doesn’t try to initiate anything again, afraid of coming on too strong, but then Jack calls him and it all devolves in an incredibly predictable way.

Kent tries his best to just go with it, just letting Jack and Bitty take the lead. He doesn't want to accidentally encroach into territory where he’s not welcome, but he doesn’t really know where the boundaries are yet. It kind of feels like they're all dating, but Kent knows that’s not what’s really happening. They’re all friends, and they’re having sex, but it doesn’t have to be anything other than that. Jack and Bitty are dating each other. There’s no room for Kent as anything other than an occasional hookup. Kent knows that, and it’s fine. He can deal with it. Even if it sort of sucks, it's still mostly awesome. What he’s getting is enough for him.

Honestly, Kent mostly tries not to think about it.

So that’s why, when Bitty texts him with, _can you skype?_ a little over week into the whole arrangement, Kent doesn't suspect a thing. All he's thinking is _fuck yeah, more Skype sex._

Then Bitty picks up the call, and Kent wonders if he might have missed something. Bitty looks worried.

Kent fidgets a little. “Hey?”

“So I think we need to talk about all of this," says Bitty.

"Ugh." That’s literally the last thing Kent wants to do. "Do we have to?”

Bitty gives him an exasperated look. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do with either of you."

"What does that mean?" Kent asks. It seems like kind of a non-sequitur to him.

“It means you reacted exactly the way Jack did, honey. I was hoping I could get you on my side with this.”

Kent tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Why don’t we just keep doing what we’re doing? We’re just hooking up.” He looks back at Bitty, shrugs a little. “It’s fun.”

This does not seem to convince Bitty, who only presses his lips together. “We need to talk about this because if we don’t I’m afraid someone is gonna get hurt.”

Kent stomach bottoms out. This is about to be the _don’t get too close_ talk. The _we’ve noticed you have feelings and you need to get it under control_ talk. Kent honestly thought he could avoid having this conversation for a long, long time.

He knew it was coming, because he’s not stupid, but wouldn't it be nicer to just pretend it wasn’t for as long as possible? Kent is well aware this is just about sex. He doesn’t really want to hear Bitty say it out loud.

“Look, I’ll be fine,” Kent says. “Don’t worry about me getting hurt.”

“That’s not what—” Bitty scrubs his hand over his face. “Sweetheart, it’s not like I’m just worried about you. What about Jack? What about _me_?”

“What _about_ you?”

Bitty gives Kent a look like he’s stupid, which Kent thinks is unfair.

Then Bitty softens. “I mean, you and Jack are just…" He shrugs. "You’ve known each other since you were sixteen. I can’t really compete, can I? You've been orbiting each other for ten years. Longer than that.”

Kent stares. Bitty is honestly crazy.

“You’re his _soulmate_ ,” Kent says. “I honestly have no idea what you’re even talking about. Everything between me and Jack is all fucked up. We’re bad for each other. You two honestly shouldn’t even be involved with me, I have no clue why—what you—I mean." Kent heaves a sigh. "There’s nothing about me that makes me good for someone.”

He really doesn’t want to talk about this. He’s so afraid he’ll finally say the thing that’ll make Bitty say, _Oh, you’re right, what the fuck are we doing?_

But Bitty just looks sadder than Kent’s ever seen him. “Oh, honey. This is exactly why we all need to talk.”

Kent shrugs. "It's true."

"Kent, it is not true. It's not true at all."

Kent doesn’t want to hear this. It’s just going to make things harder. He wants to stand up and pace or something, but he’s sitting at his desk on a fucking _Skype call_ , so he can’t do it. He heaves a sigh and tips onto the back legs of his chair instead, rocking back and forth, focusing on keeping balanced.

"I know the sex is good, but what else?” Kent asks. “What other reason is there? You hardly know me."

Bitty looks helpless. "Kent, I don't want to have this conversation over Skype. I've been talking to you for a week straight—I’m starting to feel like I know you pretty well.”

“I just don’t understand what you guys are doing here.” Kent lets his chair thunk back to the floor, gets his elbows on the desk and pushes his fingers into his hair. He feels like he might fucking cry, but he just needs to hold it together until he can get Bitty off the call. He can do that, probably. He thinks he can do that.

“I like you, Kent,” Bitty says. “I don’t know what else to say. You're funny and sweet and you love your cat and you care so, so much. You've spent the past week talking to us about how great your team is and how excited you are for pre-season and how much you want to get new furniture from Ikea, but you're too afraid you'll pick something ugly to actually go out and do it. Why wouldn't I like you?”

“I’m—” Kent starts, but Bitty gives him a grumpy look.

“Don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question.” He sighs. “So you aren’t a perfect person. You lost your temper with your ex and said something you regret _five years ago_. You didn't know what to do when you were a teenager and your boyfriend had anxiety. Am I missing anything? Are these your great sins? So what, Kent? It was all a long time ago. It wasn’t your fault that Jack refused to talk to anyone. You’re not responsible for the fact that he nearly overdosed. You didn’t know what to do, but you tried your best. You were _eighteen_ , Kent. Just a kid. Would you do any of it differently now?"

“ _Yes_ ,” Kent says. “Yes, _yes_ , of course I would. I would have made Jack talk to his parents, or our coaches, or—someone, I know he didn’t want to, but I shouldn’t have let him—maybe if I had—”

“Stop,” Bitty says. “You did your best.”

“It wasn’t good enough,” Kent says. “What if he’d _died_?”

Bitty’s eyes are wet. “Honey, he didn’t. He’s fine. You’re both fine.”

Kent presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. It's one thing when your therapist tells you you're not a bad person, but it's another thing entirely when someone you might be falling in love with does.

“God, I’ve already talked about all of this so much with Carla.” Kent rubs a hand over his face. “I thought I was over it. Guess not.” He manages to laugh a little, but it’s not very convincing. Fuck. He wasn’t gonna cry in front of Bitty.

"Oh, Kent," Bitty says. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

Kent sighs. He feels kind of wrung out.

"This isn't the best way to do this,” Bitty says, sighing too. “I really want to give you a hug."

“Oh,” Kent says. He thinks he could use a hug. He doesn't remember the last time he got a hug outside of an on-ice celly, honestly. Well, there was that half hug with Jack, too, but Kent didn't really let himself enjoy it, so it doesn't feel like it counts.

"How about. Um." Bitty looks uncharacteristically shy. "Can we come visit you?"

Kent stares at him.

“We could fly out in a few days, maybe.” Bitty seems to pick up some steam. “I have Monday and Tuesday off at the bakery. I think Jack could probably put off his appointment with his trainer.”

“Oh,” Kent says. He needs to stop saying _oh_. “If you want to.”

Bitty looks sad. “Kent. I want to.”

“Oh-kay,” Kent says. “Uhm. Sure. Yeah. Just let me know when you get in and I’ll pick you guys up from the airport.”

Bitty smiles at him. Kent feels a little stunned, just like he always does when Bitty smiles at him.

It’s just… it’s an even nicer smile than he thought it’d be. Kent isn’t quite used to having the full force of it directed at him yet.

But maybe he could get used to it.

-

Kent spends the next couple of days like he’s in a dream.

He has Jack and Bitty’s flight information in his email. Jack has been texting him about museums he wants to go to. Bitty sent him Snapchats of their half-packed duffel bags. It’s real. It’s actually happening. It’s crazy and it’s awesome and it’s crazy awesome.

It seems like Jack and Bitty are actually... in this. They’re coming to see him so they can talk in person about their feelings. It’s fucking weird, and terrifying, but it’s also not like they’re both going to fly all the way to Vegas to break up with him. It’s too long of a trip for that, an hour to the airport and a five-hour plane ride each way, and they’re doing it because they want to see him. In person. Because that’s something that matters to them. Because maybe what they’re doing means as much to them as it does to Kent.

It’s something he wouldn’t even let himself long for a week ago, but now Kent lets himself hope.

Maybe.

-

He’s standing at baggage claim, watching for the arrivals, when someone shouts his name. Kent gets an armful of tiny blonde barrelling into him a second later.

Kent blinks and hugs Bitty back. He’d been looking in the wrong direction for them, apparently.

Then he sees Jack. He’s carrying two duffel bags, one slung over each shoulder.

Kent catches his eyes over Bitty’s head—so very, very blue, and focused right on him. Kent’s mouth goes dry. When Jack gets up to Kent and Bitty, he slides his bags down onto the floor.

Bitty steps away and then Jack is stepping forward and—

Kent is suddenly reminded again of the quick, perfunctory hug he gave Jack at the party. The way he forced himself to step away when he really wanted to hug back tighter.

This time, Kent lets himself do what he wants. He squeezes Jack hard, and Jack squeezes back, warm and solid and _there._ Kent feels small and safe inside the circle of his arms.

“Hi,” Jack says, an amused rumble right into Kent’s ear. His breath is hot against Kent’s skin.

Kent shivers.

“It’s good to see you,” he manages, when they finally break apart.

Jack smiles gently.

“Yeah,” he says. Kent can’t look away, but it doesn’t seem like Jack can either.

“Lord!” Bitty’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “It’s like you two haven’t seen each other for two years, not two weeks.” His lips are twitching.

Jack ducks his head, smiling. “Shut up,” he says, without any heat at all.

Kent grins at them both. “Let me show you guys where I parked.”

-

Kent feels suddenly awkward the moment the three of them get inside his apartment and he closes the door. He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to tell them to put their bags. Kent doesn’t have a guest bedroom. His couch pulls out into a bed, but it seems stupid to mention it. Jack and Bitty are going to sleep in his bed. Obviously.

It shouldn’t be surprising, but it is. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him until that very moment that they were going to have sex that weekend. It seems stupid that he didn’t think of it before, but he’d been too preoccupied with worrying about everything else to give it much thought.

Somehow Bitty seems to notice Kent’s discomfort.

“You want to give us the tour?” he asks. He says it so sweetly that Kent immediately feels more at ease.

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not very big. It’s the same place I got when I first signed. I should probably move.”

“Hmm,” Bitty says. “I like it. You need new furniture, maybe, but you know I can help you with that.”

“Yeah?” Kent asks.

“I did Jack’s place for him, he can tell you how he likes it.”

“I do like it,” Jack says. “Bitty has good taste.”

Bitty levels them both with a flirtatious look. “In more ways than one, yes.”

Oh boy. Kent might be in trouble. But in a good way.

-

Despite Bitty’s flirting, they don’t actually have sex right away. Instead, Bitty makes them all cups of tea (“I didn’t even know I had that.” “Oh, you didn’t, I brought it special.”) and sits them down in the living room “just to chat for a little while.”

Kent is not convinced. This is going to be the feelings talk.

He’s not quite as worried about all of it as he might have expected to be, but that doesn’t mean he’s exactly looking forward to it. It’s going to be embarrassing, probably. But the mug of tea is warm and weirdly calming between his palms. It’s pretty incredible to Kent that Bitty thought this whole thing through enough to pack tea in his bag. It’s actually really sweet.

Kent still doesn’t really know what to say. Bitty is curled into the corner of the couch, Jack sitting somewhat stiffly a little ways down. Kent’s across from them in a big leather reclining massage chair that he thought was the height of luxury at eighteen. All these years later, it honestly just looks kind of dingy and tacky.

“So,” Bitty says. Kent catches Jack’s eyes, who looks just as uncomfortable as he feels. That weirdly makes Kent feel better. At least he’s not the only one.

“So,” Kent repeats.

Bitty huffs. “Okay, fine. Be that way. I have a confession, anyway.”

Kent sits forward a little. He didn’t realize _Bitty_ was going to be confessing things. He’s interested in hearing that.

Bitty averts his gaze. “So, there was a period of time where I really regretted telling Jack to reconnect with you. I was so jealous of how close you two were.”

Kent is stunned. “No way,” he says.

Jack frowns. “You never told me about this.”

Bitty shrugs, looking down at his hands. “I was just embarrassed. I got over it eventually.”

Jack still looks perturbed. “Why?”

“Well.” Bitty looks up at Jack. “Honey, I could tell you cared about him. And we’d only been dating for a couple of months. I was afraid you’d get back together with him.”

Jack sits all the way up, clearly alarmed. Kent is too surprised to do anything but watch this play out.

“You were afraid of...?” Jack glances at Kent, then back at Bitty. “Is this okay with you, what we’re doing now?”

Bitty shakes his head. “Oh, lord, sweetheart, this is fine.”

“But, I mean.” Jack’s brows are furrowed with worry. Kent takes a sip of tea, watching them. “I am getting back together with Kent? Like you were afraid of?”

Kent’s stomach swoops. Jack thinks they’re getting back together? Is that what he thinks this is? He doesn’t have time to focus on it, because Bitty is saying, “Jack, I was afraid you’d get back together with Kent and _leave me_.”

Kent actually laughs out loud at Jack’s expression. He looks completely distraught.

“I’d never leave you,” Jack says, seriously. “Bitty, I _love_ you.”

Bitty softens. “I know, honey. That’s why I’m not jealous now. It’s not like you can only care about one person at a time.”

Jack takes a sip of his own tea, clearly thinking that over. “That’s true. I care about both of you.” He looks over at Kent. “I always cared about you. I’m sorry if I didn’t show it.”

Kent is decidedly less comfortable now that he’s involved in the conversation.

“I’m honestly just happy to be included at all,” Kent says.

Bitty purses his lips. “You’re not anyone’s second choice, Kent.”

Kent shrugs. “It’s okay that I am,” he says. “I know you guys are like—” He waves a hand. “—soulmates or whatever. I’m kinda surprised you even want a third person.”

Jack frowns. “That’s not it.” He looks over at Bitty. “It’s you, and it’s Kent. That’s all.”

“I know, baby,” Bitty says. “Kent, we don’t want a third _person_. We want you.”

It feels good and it feels terrifying. Kent knows he probably needs to get better at hearing stuff like that, but he doesn’t think it’s gonna happen all in one day. That’s probably okay. Carla always tells him that he should just do what he feels like he can. It’s okay if it’s not perfect, as long as he keeps trying. It’s pretty good advice, Kent thinks.

So he lets himself change the subject. “Okay,” he says. “I have one, too.”

Jack frowns. “One what?”

“A confession,” says Kent. He takes a deep breath. “I always pretended Bitty was really ugly.”

“What?” Jack looks baffled. “ _Why?_ ”

Kent looks just past Jack’s head, out the window, then forces himself to look back. “It, um. Made me feel less jealous.”

This clearly does nothing to clarify the situation for Jack.

“Oh, Kent,” Bitty says. He looks terribly sad. “We both wasted a lot of time feeling sorry for ourselves, didn’t we?”

Kent snorts. “I think I still do that.”

Bitty does not find this funny at all. “Well, don’t. There’s no need for that.”

“You’re probably right,” Kent says. It’s true. Things are going very well, honestly. Way better than he ever expected. Bitty and Jack’s _bags_ are in his _bedroom._ That's kind of awesome. Kent smirks, and adds, “Besides, you being fucking cute turned out pretty well for me, I think.”

“Oh, well.” Bitty fidgets, clearly flustered. “I guess it went okay for me, too.”

Jack looks between the two of them. Kent recognizes the glint in his eye. “I personally think it turned out best for _me_.”

The moment stretches out a beat too long with the three of them just looking at each other. Jack sets his tea down carefully on the coffee table. Bitty puts his down, too, and then he and Jack both turn to stare at Kent, who is sitting awkwardly in his chair with his mug in his hand and no table within arm’s reach.

Finally, Kent says, “Um. I’m going to go put this in the kitchen?”

Bitty says, “You could just put it on the table.”

Kent’s heart thuds in his chest. “Okay.”

He half stands up, leaning forward to set his cup on the coffee table next to Bitty and Jack’s mugs.

Before he can sit back down, Bitty says, “Why don’t you come over here?”

Kent jerks his head up to look at him. He’s still awkwardly half crouched over the table. Bitty’s eyes are so dark that Kent can’t see his pupils at all. He feels caught, frozen in place, pinned down by Bitty's gaze.

Because he’s an idiot, Kent asks, “Are we going to have sex now?”

“Well, only if you want to.” Bitty looks amused.

Kent blinks. His brain feels fuzzy. He glances over at Jack, who’s sitting straight up and looking very, very interested, and then back to Bitty. Kent isn’t sure why he’s stalling, but he can tell that he is. He manages, “Uh, do you—want to?”

Bitty just gives him a look like he’s asking a stupid question. Which he completely is. But Jack says, “I think it would be fun. I think we could make you feel really, really good.”

“Oh,” says Kent. He straightens all the way up. “Alright.”

Bitty and Jack and still sitting there on the couch, watching him. Kent forces himself to walk past them, as casually as he can manage with his dick hard in his jeans, toward the doorway to the living room.

“Kent?” Bitty asks, twisting around to look at him. “Where are you going?”

Somehow Kent got so overwhelmed that he swung all the way back around to cool as a fucking cucumber. He suddenly feels confident. They’re _doing_ this. They want him.

Kent tilts his head at Bitty, feigning confusion. “The bedroom? Unless for some reason you really had your heart set on fucking me on the couch, I mean.”

Jack instantly stands up. Bitty jerks his gaze toward the movement, then he shakes his head and turns back to Kent. “No, no, the bedroom sounds great. Of course. Yes.” He stands up, too.

Jack is looking at Kent intently. “You want one of us to fuck you, Kenny?” He takes a couple of steps forward. “Or. Both of us?”

“Oh,” says Kent. “Well. Whatever is fine.”

“Hmmm,” says Jack. When did he get so close? It feels like his body is radiating heat. “What do you think, Bits?”

Jack has backed Kent up against the wall. The intensity of his gaze is piercing, electric. Kent can only stare up at him. Their faces are so close.

“I don’t know,” Bitty says, coming up beside Jack, crowding Kent in from the other side. “Maybe he can’t handle it?”

“I can handle it,” Kent manages.

Jack smiles, slow, smug, a little dirty. It makes Kent want to preen. He’d do anything to keep Jack looking at him like that.

“Why don’t you kiss him, Jack?” Bitty says, voice low. “That’s what you want, Kent, right?”

Kent lets out a shuddery breath. “Yeah,” he says, rocking forward onto his toes. “Come on. Please.”

Apparently that’s all Jack needs to hear, because then he presses that last inch forward and captures Kent’s mouth in a kiss.

It’s like—coming home.

Kent’s hands come up to grip Jack’s arms, thicker now than they used to be, but so much about the kiss feels the same as Kent remembers: there’s still the aching in his chest, the longing, the pure, shocked joy that Jack wants him back.

Bitty pressing against his side, though? That’s new.

“You look so good together,” Bitty says. His breath ghosts over the shell of Kent’s ear, and _oh_ , it’s new, but it’s also so much _better_. Jack pulls back, and Kent turns his head automatically, opening up for him when Bitty leans forward.

Bitty smiles against his mouth. “That’s nice,” he says. “You gonna be good for me, too?”

Kent doesn’t expect the surge of pleasure he feels at those words. It seems normal when Bitty says stuff like that to Jack, because Jack _is_ good, but Kent… Well, he just didn’t expect Bitty to say something like that to him. It seems like it should be embarrassing, sort of cheesy, like he shouldn’t like it, but Kent _does._ He wants to be good. He wants to be good so badly.

When he refocuses, Jack and Bitty are both looking at him.

Bitty looks slightly concerned. “Okay?” he asks.

“I—” Kent says. “Yes. Sorry. Got a little… distracted for a second, there.”

Jack gives him a knowing look. Kent wonders how much of his thinking was transparent to Jack just then. Maybe he felt the same way when Bitty first started saying that kind of stuff? Did Jack ever feel like he didn’t deserve it, like he shouldn’t like it? Does he still? Or does he believe it now, when Bitty calls him good?

Will Kent?

“Anyway,” Kent says. It’s not the time to think about all of that. “Bedroom?”

Bitty’s eyes sparkle. He steps away, gesturing toward the doorway to the hall. “After you.”

Kent looks back at Jack. He’s smiling down at both of them, sweet and calm. He looks completely and totally happy.

And Kent is a part of it.

He honestly never thought he’d get to be a part of Jack’s happiness ever again, and here he is. It’s kind of amazing.

“Okay, yes, let’s go,” Kent says, and starts down the hall to his room.

He knows that Jack and Bitty will follow.

-

Several hours later, Kent is happily exhausted, nestled against Bitty’s chest. He’s nearly halfway asleep already, listening to the steady rhythm of Bitty’s heart.

“I can’t believe you’re a cuddler, too,” Bitty complains. “The two of you, just like octopuses. Can’t you just cuddle with Jack and leave me out of it?”

“You like it,” Jack says, from Bitty’s other side. “You don’t want to be left out of it.”

Jack has one arm thrown over Bitty’s stomach, his fingers stroking gently along Kent’s side. It kind of tickles, but it mostly feels good, so Kent hasn’t told him to stop.

Kent shuts his eyes, listens as Bitty says, “Well, anyway, I’m hot. If you guys are gonna lie on me all the time, we’re gonna need to buy a fan or something.”

“We can get one at Ikea tomorrow,” Jack mumbles.

“Right,” Bitty says. “I forgot about that plan. Okay. There we go.”

Kent cracks open his eyes. “Ikea?”

“I thought it would be fun,” Bitty says. “You said you wanted to go, and it’s a cute place for a first date, anyway.”

Kent opens his eyes all the way at that. “First date?”

“Don’t chirp me,” Bitty says, rolling his eyes. Kent absolutely wasn’t. “I know it’s stupid, because it’s not like we aren’t already dating, and it’s not like we can actually _do anything_ in public, but. I don’t know. I just wanted us to all do something together while we had the chance.”

“‘It’s not like we aren’t already dating?’” Kent parrots. He is now completely awake.

“Hmm?” Bitty sounds distracted. “What’s that?”

Jack lifts his head a little, looking Kent over closely.

“Bitty,” he says. The tone of his voice gets Bitty’s attention. “I told you. I don’t think he knows.”

Bitty frowns, and then they have a moment of wordless we’ve-been-dating-for-five-years conversation, which apparently ends with Jack looking smug and Bitty looking surprised.

“Oh!” says Bitty. “Yes, okay.”

He sits up all of the way, dislodging Kent in the process, and crosses his legs on the bed. He waits until Kent more or less arranges himself in a mirrored position, and then Bitty takes both of Kent’s hands.

At the same time, Jack settles in behind Bitty, hooking his chin over Bitty’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Ugh,” Bitty says, but he looks too pleased for there to be any sting in his words. “What did I say? Like an octopus.”

“Leave me alone,” Jack says, pressing his face into Bitty’s neck.

Bitty is still holding Kent’s hands. Kent wonders how long they can hold hands before it gets weird.

“Kent,” says Bitty, seriously. “I thought this was unnecessary, but for once Jack was more perceptive than me.”

“Hah,” says Jack.

Bitty turns his head sideways enough to shoot Jack a very unimpressed glare. “Savor the moment, sweetheart. It’ll be five years before it happens again.”

Bitty’s hands are warm and soft in Kent’s and it’s still not weird. Kent wonders if he can make it happen again before they leave. Holding hands is nice. He doesn’t remember the last time he held anyone’s hands, so it was probably with Jack. Random hookups didn’t generally want to hold your hand after sex.

“Anyway,” Bitty says. “Kent. We both really like you.”

He pauses, so Kent says, “I really like you, too. I’m glad you came out to see me.” Bitty squeezes his hands.

“Of course, honey, this has been really good.” Bitty bites his lip. “We, um, well—we wanted—”

When he falters, Jack just pats his knee and says, “We wanted to know if you wanted to be our boyfriend. Officially.”

“Oh,” Kent says. “Yes. I—um. Yes. So much. Yes.”

Bitty grins, says, “Come here,” then tugs Kent forward by his hands, into an easy kiss. When Bitty breaks away, Jack is right there.

It’s a good moment.

-

“So, Ikea,” Kent says, a while later.

Bitty’s returning smile is blinding.

“Lord above,” Bitty says. “I’m going to make your apartment so damn cute.”

Kent slants a glance over at Jack. “Should I be worried?”

“Probably,” Jack says. “But I find that he’s usually worth the trouble.”

Bitty thwacks him on the chest, and then thwacks Kent, too, when he starts laughing.

“I won’t stand for this,” Bitty complains. “If anyone is going to get ganged up on, it’s not going to be me.”

Kent makes eye contact with Jack from Bitty’s other side.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks.

Jack says, “I know all of his most ticklish spots.”

Bitty shrieks and tries to roll out from between them, but Jack catches ahold of his middle and drags him back down onto the bed.

Kent laughs and laughs and laughs. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

When he used to think about love, he thought about intensity and longing and hungry, aching desire—about suffering and secrets and need. He never thought about this, the feeling of being loose and wide open, like he could fit the whole world inside of himself.

Bitty hollers, “I will leave you both if you don’t cut this out!” and Kent rolls right on top of him, pinning him down on the bed while Jack goes for the backs of his knees.

“No, you won’t,” Kent taunts. “You _like_ us.”

Bitty squeals with laughter beneath him, shaking his head, but he doesn’t try to deny it.

Kent feels happier than he’s maybe ever been.

Oh, this is going to be _fun_.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day! I'm gonna wait until author reveals to actually reply, but just know in the meantime that I love & appreciate you. ♥

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [List of Things Bitty Did: 1. That](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453705) by [Justonebigbee (sunlight)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlight/pseuds/Justonebigbee)




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